Final Hours
by Tribal Shimmy
Summary: As Philotas waits for his execution he has an unexpected visitor.


**FINAL MOMENTS**

"You're the last person I expected to see."

His visitor closed the door, ignoring the comment, and put down the flask of wine and two cups on the table between them.

"It's almost dawn, Hephaistion. Have you come from him?" Philotas could not help but cling to hope.

Hephaistion shook his head. "I was in my own quarters."

Philotas studied the man before him. Alexander would not be alone tonight, and if Hephaistion were not with him, then he was taking comfort from the eunuch. He watched as Hephaistion poured the wine, noticing the bruised knuckles. "You hit hard," he said, touching his hand to the side of his face, and wincing as he felt the bruising.

Blue eyes gazed on him. "I needed to know the truth."

Philotas laughed, picking up the cup and drinking. Hephaistion had brought the best.

"A man will say a lot of things when he is in pain. Just to make it stop."

Hephaistion frowned, considering this point. He looked into the contents of his wine cup and then to Philotas. "You wanted the king dead."

"It was not my idea. Not my plan," he said, earnestly.

Philotas shrugged, then brought his hand up to his ribs and waited for the pain, the movement had caused to subside, before he spoke. "I did not think that they would go through with it. There are so many rumours where Alex…, he hesitated, smiling before he corrected himself. "Where the king is concerned."

"You should have told him," Hephaistion replied, softly.

Philotas looked around the bare room, furnished only with the bed, he now sat on, the chair Hephaistion occupied, and the table with the lamp, and now the wine. At the far end of the room a wooden shelf had been used to display the small bronze statues of the Gods he favoured, candles now burned amongst them. Ares, Aphrodite and Apollo. "Not all men are as loyal as you," he whispered, then turned to gaze on Hephaistion. "Does it surprise you?"

Choosing not to answer the question, Hephaistion looked at the shrine, the light from the candles reflected back in his eyes. "The Gods served you well, Philotas," he said.

Philotas turned to gaze back at the bronze statues, then raised his wine cup to toast the Gods. "Ares has served me well in battle. He gave me control of the Companion Cavalry. He has always been by my side." He laughed softly. "Aphrodite, perhaps not so much, I loved women, but never found true love. Apollo….well, he was a mistake, he seems to watch over the king a little too well."

"You had everything, Philotas. You had the trust of the king, he promoted you, thought so well of you…" Hephaistion sighed, nodding towards the shrine. "I think, perhaps, it was Aphrodite who led you astray."

Philotas laughed and shook his head. "I have known some beautiful women, even if I failed to find love. I was fond of Antigone…"

"Antigone repeated all you said to her…how it was yourself and your father who did all the work, while Alexander took all of the glory.

Philotas' face flushed a little, then he smiled and looked on Hephaistion. "So, he has known for some time, how I was thinking, and he did nothing…until now."

"He trusted you. He heard what others said about you, but still he trusted you. Only now, after all this time, when the evidence of your betrayal is too obvious to be discounted or overlooked has he had to act."

"By killing me."

Silence filled the room, rays of light beginning to filter through the shuttered window, sounds of some activity outside.

Philotas leaned forward and filled his cup. "I remember the first time I saw you, Hephaistion. I can't recall ever meeting Alexander, he had always been there…but you, I remember, standing by your father's side in the great hall, in front of Philip.

Cassander, Ptolemy and I were with Alexander, we had been called in. Alexander went to his father's side. Philip and Amyntor, recalling old times, each with their hands on the shoulders of the sons they were proud of. You didn't stay, but a short time after, when your father was killed, I saw you return, I saw Alexander run to you and embrace you, like he had known you a lifetime."

Philotas took a sip of the wine. "And what of my father, Hephaistion?"

Hephaistion's silence told him all he needed to know.

"I am his only remaining son. I don't think he ever had the ambition for me that he had for my two brothers. Not until I was all he had left. And who am I?" Philotas laughed. "Why would I want Alexander dead? Why would I want to follow another king who might prove less of a man than Alexander?"

"So, why not settle for what you had?" Hephaistion asked.

Philotas stared into his wine cup, as if it might provide the answer to the question. "There will be no reprieve?"

Hephaistion shook his head.

"I was raised as a prince," Philotas said, leaning back against the wall, and smiling at the childhood memories that came flooding back to him. "Being the son of Parmenion, meant I had my own way for most of the time. While Leonidas was inflicting his cruel regime on Alexander, I grew in comfort with all that I ever wanted just there for the taking."

"And then the boy became a man," Hephaistion prompted.

Philotas laughed, taking another drink. He held the cup up. "The wine is good, I thank you for it, Hephaistion." He pulled at the plain chiton he wore. "This is all that I have left, so I thank you for the wine, a final reminder of what I had…and what I lost." He gazed on Hephaistion. "Why are you not with him?"

Hephaistion raised his own cup to his lips, sipping a little of the wine, before looking into Philotas' eyes. "Bagoas' presence tonight will not remind him of the dreams we shared when we were boys."

"And you don't mind?"

"He needs me."

"His Patroclus." Philotas smiled. "What do the pleasures of the flesh matter when you can have someone you trust so much…who loves you so much? And what happened to Achilles when Patroclus died? He died shortly after." He finished the wine in his cup and reached for the flask to fill it once more. "Perhaps those pages would have been better having you as their target, Hephaistion? To kill you, to kill Patroclus, is to kill the king." He laughed. "I could kill you now. I see you are unarmed and what have I to lose anymore?"

Despite his words, Philotas made no move and saw that his threat had not caused any concern in the man before him.

"It's no game with you, is it, Hephaistion?" he acknowledged. "The rest of us all have some ulterior motive, but you have none. I see it now. Even as boys, we were pushed to befriend Alexander. Not that it was a difficult task, we all love Alexander as the army loves him."

"Then, why want him dead?"

Philotas slammed the cup down on the table, sloshing the wine over the edge of it, sudden tears filling his eyes. "I told you, I was no part of that plot. If I could have my time again, then I would tell him, I swear to you I would. If I went to him with everything I heard…"

"Cebalinus chose you because you were the most senior officer he knew. It took courage for him to do that, his brother was implicated in the plot. He didn't just tell you, he came back to you trying to discover what had been done. If he had not gone to one of Alexander's own pages and told him…"

"Then, Alexander might be dead. I know." He looked in to his cup, then drank what was left in it. "I am glad he lives. Truly I am." He reached for the flask and filled his cup, then lifted it to his lips and drank half of it down. "I lost my way, Hephaistion." He wet his finger in the wine on the table and wrote his name. "And how will I be remembered? If I am remembered." He lifted his hand to wipe the tears that fell from his eyes.

"I thought I would die in battle." He laughed from the embarrassment of Hephaistion seeing his tears, but glancing at him he saw his eyes showed no disdain. "There have been times when I have hardly been quick enough to save myself." He wiped his hand over the table, where his name had now evaporated. "The moments before a battle, the fear that reaches into your gut, I feel it now. But to die in battle…or to die before your friends marked as a traitor…well, I would choose battle every time."

"You think it will be an easy thing to watch you die?"

"You all hate me!" Philotas scoffed, slamming the wine down on the table, knocking the cup over in his haste, as he moved quickly, reaching for Hephaistion, lifting him up and pushing him back against the wall, pinning him. "You hate me! That's why it was an easy thing to torture me, to see me fall, to cast the sentence of death on me!" he spat.

"I don't hate you," Hephaistion replied, calmly. "I wonder why a man who has everything can not be content."

"Do you talk of me or Alexander?" Philotas snapped, relaxing his grip a little but still holding on. Tears filled his eyes, once more. "I have all Alexander ever wanted right here before me. I could take it from him now and kill him the way he has killed me."

"Remember the feast after the battle of Granicus?" Hephaistion asked. "You and Alexander got drunk together that night…"

"…And talked of glory to come. We were so glad to be alive, to have won our first battle on Persian soil. I remember the look of joy on his face, mixed with his sorrow for his lost companions…" He released Hephaistion and stepped away. "Will he mourn for me? For my father?" He ran his fingers into his hair then looked towards the window. "It is light outside," he whispered. He walked over to the table and picked up the flask. "The wine has gone."

As he spoke the door opened and four men of the Shield Bearers walked into the room.

Philotas turned to Hephaistion. "I am afraid," he admitted.

Hephaistion stepped forward and embraced him. "I have seen the courage shine from you in battle," he said. "Be brave now, Philotas."

Philotas clung to him. "Oh, Hephaistion," he cried, taking a final moment of comfort, a final loving touch, before he stepped away and turned to the Shield Bearers, walking between them, allowing them to lead him away.

The army had gathered. His eyes fell on the wooden post secured in to the ground, then he looked to the mountains, in the direction they had come and then in the direction they would go on, without him. He saw Alexander surrounded by the men he had known as friends. He quickly registered the stern looks upon their faces before he looked away, almost losing the courage Hephaistion's words had found.

A guard reached up to guide him to the post and he felt himself secured. Again he looked to the mountains, but this time he thought of his father and the journey it would take to reach him. What a journey it had been.

He looked forward, seeing the man who would execute him, the javelin held tightly in his hand. His beating heart almost making him miss the words of the priest offering prayers, of somebody loudly declaring why he must die. He looked to Alexander, the pain and the knowledge of his betrayal making it difficult. Then he saw Hephaistion and found his courage once again. If only they had been friends. It all might have been so different.

He took a breath and faced his executioner.

It was done.

Hephaistion found himself back in the small room, drawn there by some unseen power.

He looked down at the bed, at the blankets that had still held the shape of Philotas' form. He reached for the upturned cup, on the table, and righted it. The stain of the spilled wine, reminded him of the stain of blood on Philotas' chiton.

Walking over to the shrine, he said a prayer for Philotas, then blew the candles out. Ares and Aphrodite had not served the man so well. He lifted up the small statue of Apollo, turning it in his hand. Philotas had said that he believed Apollo watched over Alexander.

He clutched the statue tightly as he took a final look around the room. Alexander needed him now, Parmenion was a danger that must be dealt with, and only then would it be time to mourn a friend.

THE END


End file.
